|rumlow (brumlow) wrote in avengers_logs,|
@ 2018-02-19 09:55:00
|Entry tags:||-complete, brock rumlow|
What: Checking Jessica's office/apartment
Rating/Warnings: Rumlow has a foul mouth?
Rumlow wouldn't admit, even under torture, that Stark had had a good idea, but checking out Jessica's place was sensible. He didn't expect to find her there. She wasn't dumb enough to stay in an obvious place if Kilgrave was looking for her. But maybe he could find some clue about where she had gone. It was a small chance but he had to take it.
He took the steps; he avoided elevators when he could. He'd always had a touch of claustrophobia. He could control it but if he had a choice, he took the stairs. Plus he could arrive less obviously.
He approached the frosted glass door silently, listening. He didn't hear anything, but then again his hearing was only human. He didn't see any movement either, but that didn't mean anything.
He stood by the door, off to the side, listening some more. He couldn't be sure, but he didn't think anyone was inside. It was just a feeling. After a moment, he tried the door, alert for any traps. There were none, and it was locked.
He pulled out a lock picking tool. It was nothing compared to the set he'd used to have, but he'd had many years of lockpicking practice and this one posed no problem for him. He was in, in about the time it took to use an actual key. He supposed someone as indestructible as Jessica didn't need a strong lock. Not to mention the glass seemed to be normal glass. He didn't want to break it if he didn't have to, and he didn't.
He slipped in, closing the door as quietly as possible behind him. He paused to listen again. The place had the heavy, still feeling of an unoccupied space. Still, he called out, "Jess? You there?" His words fell into the deadened air. No answer.
Slowly, he explored the space, not expecting to find anyone. Alive anyway. But there was no smell to indicated anything was dead here, so he wasn't that worried.
The office was as he'd last seen it, papers haphazardly arranged. The laptop was gone, though.
He moved on to the kitchen. A quick check showed that most of the alcohol was gone. That told Rumlow a few things; one, Jess wasn't here. She always had a good supply of alcohol and she'd clearly taken it with her. Two, that she hadn't been forced to leave by someone--they might have taken the laptop but not the booze. Three, she hadn't been in a blind rush. Those were at least good things, but it also meant she wasn't planning on coming back soon.
The last place he checked was the bedroom. The bed was unmade, as always, but the closet door was open. He didn't know Jessica's wardrobe all that well but there wasn't much left in there. He had to presume she'd taken her clothes with her.
He checked the rest of the apartment but there was nothing else. No indication of a struggle, no note telling him where she was. He hadn't expected any clues, but he'd had to check. He looked around one last time before slipping out, relocking the door.
On a whim, he checked a few of the alleys and dumpsters near the apartment. Something caught his eye, half buried under a pile of garbage.
A phone, just like the one Strange had given him. It was dead, but he was almost sure it was Jessica's. She clearly wanted to be sure she wasn't tracked by it.
Jess, where the fuck are you?